


Melodrama

by MsMay



Series: My DCU [7]
Category: DCU
Genre: Brief mentions of the Batfam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMay/pseuds/MsMay
Summary: This is a collection of dabbles about Jason Todd based on a color pallet that I lost. It's more about Jason's growth than it is about his relationship with Kyle.He feels that there is something foul inside of him. It howls. It aches. He carries it with him like a crippled limb, a psychic gangrene that makes him slow, angry, tired. He feels the slap shod misery in every step. He feels the growing vile ache of his body at the memory of disappointment in his brother’s eyes. Every piece of air or tree or horizon reminds him of his coffin, or the graveyard, or the thick wall of dirt that he clawed at and clawed at and could not seem to move. The disappointment in his brother’s eyes reminds him of the grey sky above the graveyard. The alleyways remind him of his coffin. Fighting reminds him of the dirt.





	Melodrama

Melodrama:

 

He feels that there is something foul inside of him. It howls. It aches. He carries it with him like a crippled limb, a psychic gangrene that makes him slow, angry, tired. He feels the slap shod misery in every step. He feels the growing vile ache of his body at the memory of disappointment in his brother’s eyes. Every piece of air or tree or horizon reminds him of his coffin, or the graveyard, or the thick wall of dirt that he clawed at and clawed at and could not seem to move. The disappointment in his brother’s eyes reminds him of the grey sky above the graveyard. The alleyways remind him of his coffin. Fighting reminds him of the dirt.  

There was blood on his fingers. It was slick and sticky. How did it get there; digging? He wants to scream. He wasn’t digging- why does he feel so fucking slow- it wasn’t, he wasn’t buried- there was a knife. And there was blood on his fingers. It was slick and sticky red stuff under his nails. That new robin had looked so _heartbroken_ when Jason stabbed him _._ With Dick as a brother he probably knew nothing but love, and that’s so _unfair_ -

There it is again, that misery. Even when it recedes, it feels as if it drags it’s claws along his heart. Why is it always so painful? Why does he always scrape at the underside of his nails, cleaning away the dirt, until he bleeds? Why-why-why?

His own thoughts repulse him. His father had forgiven him, and yet he still feels like a wretched, corrupt, man and that is such _bullshit._ It’s all bullshit.

And he is tired of sleeping on the ground. He hates the way the dirt gets beneath his nails. No matter how much he soaks his hands it builds up. It drives up beneath his nails and sits there, a part of his skin, like misery. He is so fucking tired of misery. 

 

 

Piano Keys:

 

The only thing in Jason’s apartment is a piano. It was there when he bought it. It’s a nice piano, the keys are all in tune, although there was, for the briefest moment when Jason tried to strike the C in the third octave, a ringing, gritting, clang which Jason assumed was a broken string. Upon closer inspection, it was just a pencil the previous owner had left in the piano. So a composer.

A damn shame.

Jason had gotten this apartment on the cheap cause the last three occupants were shot in the apartment. No one’s sure if it’s a serial killer or the happenstance of living in a shit hole. Jason’s pulling for the serial killer. He’s been dying to loose every violent impulse his brain has been keeping tucked away since he promised to himself that he was done being the desperate, broken, one in the family.

Maybe it wasn’t a composer, maybe the last occupant used the piano as a table and just dropped the pencil, or maybe the last occupant didn’t have a thing to do with the piano and that pencil had been in that piano since before the killings started.

Maybe it’s just a goddamned piano and it doesn’t have to mean anything. Why does everything have to mean something to him? Jason looks at the piano, and the certain slant of light that falls through the back windows. There’s a tiny balcony out there, enough that he can stand and smoke.

There’s not really anyone to stop him from smoking indoors though.

He sits down in front of the piano with limp arms. There is no one stopping him from playing the piano keys. He turns his head towards the mutilated ceiling. His smoke trails up to a spot where the crumbling stucco has given way to black-ish mold. He and the line of smoke bisect the walls, the floor, and the balcony door, in a faint grey line. He is connected to the farthest part of a space that is his and he cuts it apart, like the piano cuts apart the apartment’s emptiness.

Maybe he will put plants on the window sill.

 

 

Night Bedroom:

 

Kyle says, “I didn’t know you play,” when he sees the piano. 

Jason says, “I don’t.” That foul thing inside of Jason feels close now. When he shucks his jacket, when he pulls Kyle close with hungry hands, the dredges of dead earth whisper in the back of Jason’s mind. He wants to scream. He breathes through a kiss and tears at Kyle’s clothes. The smell of his body is thick in the air, a combination of blood’s copper bend, and human sweat. Kyle’s mouth taste like plumbs, heady and sweet. His teeth are hard, like a plumb’s pit, when their teeth knock together. Jason can feel his heart beat, and he is not ashamed of it. He usually feels a little more shame.

There is a question in Kyle’s eyes, as his back hits the wall. Jason looks away and kisses below his jaw. If Kyle wants to ask what they are, what this is, he doesn’t. Jason presses their bodies together, turns his head back up and bites Kyle’s lips. Kyle’s skin is so warm, and his body so twisted with scars and fresh wounds. He whimpers when Jason presses too hard, but his hips press harder against Jason and so Jason works his rough fingers against the parts of Kyle that hurt, and the parts that ache, until Kyle is too far gone to think of anything but Jason’s rough fingers. The possibilities that the bed offers in the next room feel like a necessary power.

They move together, just two bodies and nothing else, beneath the sheets. It feels simple. For Jason, being in a body is rarely simple. He breaks away from the ripe pleasure of Kyle’s mouth, to bite plumb-colored bruises. He moves down, down, until his lips find where Kyle aches the most. Jason keeps his pace slow, carefully pressing his mouth, lips, and tongue with every roll of Kyle’s hips. When Kyle’s body tenses, shifts against the sheets with a ratcheted kind of anticipation, Jason feels a hand on his cheek. The hand is not soft, but the press is gentle and guiding. It pulls Jason up, away from his work.

“Jay, please, not like- I want-” And then they are kissing. Kyle kisses as if it makes him feel both desperate and fulfilled. Jason wishes he understood that. He chases that kiss like maybe he can understand that. One of Kyle’s hands winds itself around Jason’s wrist. Jason lets his hand be guided down, past where Jason had set his mouth to work.

“Jason, _please,_ ” Kyle breaths against his lips. Jason is nodding his head, pressing with his rough fingers, as he presses his tongue back into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle’s hand grips Jason’s shoulder. The cool metal of his green lantern ring slides against Jason’s near feverish skin. Their breathing becomes too heavy, too tangled for more than lips against lips. Kyle whispers _more, more, more_ , even when Jason presses into him in full, and their bodies rock together. Kyle drags his nails across Jason’s back. The sharp sensation of pain-pleasure brings a moan to the forefront of Jason’s lips. He turns his head into Kyle’s shoulder and breaths through a simple kiss placed against the skin. Kyle whimpers. Jason leaves his face buried there, his mouth working light bruises, each like plumbs against Kyle’s skin until pleasure swallows them both.

 

 

His Kiss:

 

Jason makes coffee.

He doesn’t usually make coffee.

In fact, he’s kind of made it a point to not make coffee when he and Kyle do . . . this. This thing. This thing where Kyle shows up at his apartment, and then doesn’t leave until a pending apocalypse calls either of them away.

But he’s making coffee, now. He likes the feel of his kitchen floor. The slant of sunlight through the windows warms up the tiles. This might be the first warm morning he’s had in a long time. See the heater doesn’t quite keep up with the winter season, and Gotham always clings to the grimy vestiges of miserable, wet, weather. His garden has struggled valiantly. The soft green fronds that he took particular care with are now stiffening, and lifting their heads. Somewhere in this godforsaken neighborhood a building is on fire. The lingering smoke sometimes bends the light. Yeah, it looks like spring has finally arrived.

The coffee’s done. He pours it into two mugs.

Kyle is tangled up in his pink sheets, the same pink sheets that Kyle had made fun of endlessly last night, because for the first time they fucked with the lights still on. And now it’s morning and Kyle is still tangled in the pink sheets. He’ll wake up and see them again, see himself in Jason’s bed. Well, it’s sort of a bed. It’s a mattress on the floor covered in pink sheets. Kyle still looks so good, a little bruised and a lot blissful. On the windowsill one of his tulips is just starting to peel back it’s tough green exterior, and reveal the blushed purple waiting beneath. 

Jason pauses for a second and lies down on the floor. He sets the cups to the side, where they won’t get in the way. He fiddles with his phone, waiting for the camera to see what he sees. The smoky light outside the window keeps changing the colors, and casting shadows across Kyle, where there aren’t really shadows.

Then Kyle shifts, his head turns towards the window, on the side of the bed where Jason had slept last night. He sits up a little, and turns a little too quickly towards the other side. When he sees Jason lying on the floor he falls back against the bed.

“Hey,” he says with a tiny laugh in his voice.

“Hey,” Jason says. It’s a shade too early for either of them to speak above a whisper. At this point, Jason figures that there are more interesting things to do with Kyle than take his picture. He crawls back onto the mattress and thumps his head down onto the mess of pillows. His bed is really just two-thirds pillows, and that’s how he likes it.

“You still seem mad,” Kyle whispers, inching closer and pressing a kiss to Jason’s bare shoulder.

“That fucking fire cast a weird light over my garden this morning. Ruined my goddamned photo,” he says.   

“Mmm.” Kyle wraps his arms around Jason and snuggles in close against Jason’s chest. “Not what I meant.”

Jason doesn’t want to talk about how he fucked up last night. How he let the bad guy get away. How somewhere out there, a monster is waking up on the first day of a spring he doesn’t deserve, happy in someone’s arms. It was a stupid slip up. He should have been more focused, faster, better. Something twists, ugly and hard, inside Jason’s stomach.

Kyle places another kiss on Jason’s shoulder, and _fuck_ Jason is such a sucker for that. Why is he such a sucker for that?

“You can talk to me, you know,” Kyle says. Jason would. He wants to. That’s a strange feeling, even if the impulse comes naturally. He never wants to talk, but now, that twisted, ugly pit in his stomach had metamorphosed into something fluttering and warm. Still, the words stick behind his teeth.

Instead he kisses Kyle, and whispers, “I am.”

“Yeah, acting like a thirsty hoe is not the-” Kyle starts to snark at Jason, but Jason snorts a laugh and kisses him quiet.

“I really don’t hear you complaining,” Jason says. Kyle starts to talk again, but Jason kisses him long and hard. Even the unscarred skin on Kyle’s body is rough, and the tight muscle beneath his skin means that he’s not soft. But his heartbeat is warm, and his body talks. Those tight muscles dance beneath his rough skin, as Jason runs his hands over Kyle’s chest.

The smoke outside their window is getting thicker, and the coffee is getting cold. Kyle shifts so that Jason can settle between his legs. Jason can feel his stomach flutter, and his words stick behind his teeth. He tries to imagine how to say I love you, when he hasn’t found the courage to say that this is more than just their bodies. 

 

 

Nineties Girls:

 

It’s a creek of the floorboards, or maybe the rafters, or maybe it’s . . . No it’s a tinny noise, a faint clang that resonates. It’s the A in the third octave, but no one struck the key. Someone must’ve dropped something in the piano, or bumped it. Jason’s pretty sure Kyle dropped one of his fucking paint cap down there last time he was painting on top of the piano. Says it gives him a good vantage to paint the apartment. Jason has no fucking clue why he likes to paint the apartment.

It takes Jason a second to remember that Kyle is in bed next to him and so no one should be making noise on the piano.

Jason’s out of bed in a half-second, crouched on the floor with one hand on the bedframe that Kyle made him buy. Turned out to be pretty handy. It’s a lot easier to store weapons underneath a frame than a mattress. Jason reaches for the nearest knife. He hears quiet muttering.

“Jason?” Kyle calls from the bed. Jason holds up one finger for quite, tries to remember- now his glock is in bedside table, but there’s a knife and-

He listens to the noise a little harder, and picks up on whispers. There’s a second set of footsteps, but only one person is talking. The voice is young, feminine. He knows that voice.

 “ _Shit,”_ Jason whispers. Kyle sits up in bed. 

“What?” Kyle’s already fidgeting with his ring.

“It’s my sisters,” Jason says. Well, technically only one is his sister, but he’d kill for Stephanie so that’s close enough.

“What do you mean it’s your sisters?” Kyle asks, as his eyes shoot to the knife in Jason’s hand.

 “Shh! Shut up,” Jason hisses, sliding the knife back beneath the bed and then shmushing Kyle’s face with a pillow. But fuck, they’ve made enough noise that the whispering outside his door has stopped. Someone tries to open the door, but Jason practically lunges at it. 

“You want to let me put some pants on before you break into my room?” he asks.

“Since when have you cared about modesty?” Steph asks, snorting a laugh. She’s got her foot in the door. If this comes down to a strength contest, Jason will win. But nothing is ever just about strength, and Steph has a clear advantage.

Her eyes are heavy, with purpling bags underneath. She has that look on, something all bat kids get, and Jason recognizes it instantly. It is the face of someone who has recently met their human limit. She’s probably got a heart full of panic. Jason gets that. He knows that’s why she came to see him. There’s no way he could turn her away.

Jason looks over his shoulder, and expects to see Cass perched silently behind Steph, but there’s no one there.

“Hey, where’s. . . ” He gets halfway through that thought before he hears Kyle scream, and then someone else scream, and then there’s a thud as a body hits the floor. Jason turns to see Cass, clutching her heart at the foot of the bed in full Black Bat regalia. Jason guesses that Kyle is on the floor. 

“You have a secret boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell us?” Stephanie asks, elbowing her way through the door so that she can get a look at this all-mysterious man. Kyle peeks over the edge of the bed, a little surprised. Jason has figured that Kyle had figured out they were boyfriends, although Jason has never _said_ anything.

“I didn’t tell you, because you nosey fuckers would ruin it,” Jason says, getting in Steph’s way to spare Kyle the hassle of her interrogation. She dodges and dives to crawl under the bed. Jason is just barely fast enough to grab her legs and pull her out. He dangles her above the floor as punishment.

He hears a snort of laughter, and looks up for just long enough to see Kyle smile. A smile sneaks its way onto Jason’s mouth, and Jason has the stupidly romantic thought that their hearts must be connected. Every damn time Jason sees Kyle smile, he wants to smile too.

Steph makes a soft gasp, as if surprised. Jason doesn’t even bother looking at her, he just shakes her. Then the little rat actually _bites_ Jason’s fucking ankle.

“Ah, what the _fuck_ Steph?” Jason yells, dropping her immediately. Cass snickers from the bed. Jason looks over just long enough see her helping Kyle up. For a second, Jason considers giving Steph a pass so he can take a moment and talk to Kyle. Maybe tell him he can leave he wants to? Jason knows that his family can be a lot, this is probably a nightmare for Kyle. Someone just said boyfriend for the first time too, maybe that’s not actually what this is, as much as that’s what Jason wants it to be. Maybe Jason’s finally scared Kyle off for good.

 “I’m telling Dick you’re in _love_!” Stephanie cries. Jason’s brain almost short circuits. Suddenly there is nothing more important than making sure she doesn’t tell Dick, because Dick can be such a fucking _nark,_ and if he knows then Bruce will know, and Jason can’t handle the thought of introducing Bruce to his _Green Lantern_ boyfriend and- fuck there Steph goes. She sprints out into the living room with Jason right on her heels. They stop, trying to fake each other out with the couch between them. Ha, like that’ll stop Jason.

“You tell Dick and I put you in the fucking ground!” Jason yells, vaulting the couch and chasing her into the kitchen. Through the kitchenette window he catches Kyle looking at him, eyes wide and face flushed. For a moment Jason wishes the girls weren’t here, and this could be a quiet moment. He wishes he had had the courage to say I love you a thousand times before. He wishes that time could stop, and he could ask, “Will you stay with me?” before he takes another step.  

Kyle smiles, a biting his lip kind of smile, that means he’s hiding so much more happiness inside than he can let out right now. There’s something in his eyes. Jason feels himself slow to a stop.

“She’s getting away,” Kyle says, pointing at the door. Steph has slowed down a little bit, and is watching them. He knows that she’ll leave if he gives even the slightest indication. Steph’s like that, like him. She’s always ready to believe that people would rather choose anyone over her.

There’s no chance in hell he’ll run her out. Jason takes the opportunity to try and grab her, but Steph is a slippery fish. She sprints back into the living room, yelling all the while.

“Jason’s got a crush! Jason’s got a crush!”

“I will put glitter in everything you love!”

“Like that’s a problem?”

Kyle is laughing in truth now, watching them chase each other over and around the piano, the couch, the kitchenette window. Cass emerges from the bedroom in a set of Jason’s pajamas. Now that she’s free of her cowl, Jason can see that there’s a bruise on her right eye, and her lips is split. She takes Kyle’s hand and walks him to the kitchen to help her make breakfast. Kyle seems baffled by the fondness she’s showing, but that’s just Cass.

Kyle is one of Jason’s people. That makes him one of Cass’ people too.

Cass fiddles with the speaker in the kitchenette and starts playing Waterfall by TLC. It’s a little too slow to be good chase music, but it’s probably Cass’ way of telling him and Steph that they need to calm down. Kyle sings along while he fiddles with the coffee pot.  

There are still scars hiding out in the back of Jason’s mind. He feels them as he rolls beneath the piano to dodge a pillow that Steph chucked at his head. His grave is waiting for those days when the shadows stretch, and death walks close beside him.

But for now, he’s got this. He’s got them.

Now, he’s got room to breathe.

 

 

 

 


End file.
